Written by Katharine Trauger
“Hot. Hot. Hot.”
Breathe earth’s breath.
And know.
It’s fever.
Her creek beds dehydrate;
Mouths of her caves parch.
She burns.
Her dying trees cry out;
Lighting caresses them.
Walk the once-cool carpets;
Crunch dead grass.
The cat pants.
Turtles disappear; fish hide deep.
Waiting.
Katharine Trauger is a retired educator and a women’s counselor. She and her husband spent 25 years managing a home and school for children who would otherwise have been homeless. She has worked 15 years as contributor and/or columnist for several small professional magazines, with over 60 published articles. She blogs about the rising popularity of being at home, from a sun room on a wooded hilltop in the Deep South, at: Home’s Cool! and The Conquering Mom and tweets at @KathaTrau. She is currently working on a self-help book entitled: Yes, It Hurts, But . .
Beautiful.
Thanks so much, Tiff! 🙂
Katharine~ I love this poem….the crunch of the dried out grass…i remember how glorious the soft green grass felt in the summer when I was little. When the grass got brittle, excitement quivered through me. I KNEW it was almost time for school to resume! Love your post…and every time I read about you blogging from the sunroom on a wooded hilltop, I can almost be there! Lovely post.
Thanks so much, Kate! How kind of you to come over here and read and comment! <3
I get shivers from dried grass, too…surprised? Ha! But it never made me think of school. But then I did not love school as you did. It always made me think of Wheaties!
Oooh, I wish you WERE here! We'd can tomatoes together. Mmm… 🙂
Thanks, Tiffany! 🙂